


Sing us a song, you're the piano woman

by MissAlabamy



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Sex, Daryl Dixon Needs a Hug, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Insecure Daryl Dixon, Inspired by Music, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Porn with Feelings, Protective Daryl Dixon, Rescue Missions, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Sweet Negan (Walking Dead)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23306041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAlabamy/pseuds/MissAlabamy
Summary: Reader is trapped in a small wooden cabin surrounded by walkers. With Negan. Unarmed. Oh nooo I hope Daryl misses her very much and saves her from Negan's base, confessing his love before Negan manages to seduce her! And then what, they probably take him captive and they bond over several visits to his cell while trying to craft an escape plan!Reader plays de piano.Reader has been a professional musician at some point.Reader has not confessed her feelings, neither has Daryl.Reader is sassy.Pronouns for Reader I/me.English is not my first language :D
Relationships: Daryl Dixon & Original Female Character(s), Daryl Dixon & You, Daryl Dixon/You, Negan (Walking Dead) & Original Female Character(s), Negan (Walking Dead) & You, Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Female Character(s), Negan (Walking Dead)/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. Hold my hand

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this piece of crap I wrote at four in the morning like the fandom gremlin I am.

The walls were shaking under the weight of a hundred walking corpses. I wasn't scared. I was... at peace with what was about to happen. I wanted it to be over, even. I thought about Daryl, about Rick, about my dear friend Jesus, and I felt bad for being ok with my own death. I knew they would miss me, but deep down I was tired of running.

I sat on the floor quietly with my legs crossed, waiting for the little wooden structure to collapse. A yellow flower had grown through the vinyl tiles. I pulled on its petals slightly, afraid to pluck one.

"Aren't. We. Fucked." the man punched the wall as softly as he could, but it still wobbled dangerously.

"You're fucked. I'll go to heaven." I was gonna die. I could afford to sass the most dangerous man I knew.

"Yeah, right. Suck my dick and balls." He muttered, looking out the window in search for an escape route.

There was no escape route. There was no way out. He kept fidgeting and running around, getting on my nerves on the day of MY death. Rude.

I decided to stand up and approach him cautiously. I had never been this close to the Big Bad. He was losing hope, and either that or the sudden thought that we were going to die together made him seem more human in my eyes. His hands were steady. Mom's spaghetti. But his brows were knitted with worry.

"Are you ok with dying here, Negan?" I asked, startling him.

"Are you ok with me calling you a bitch?" He retorted.

"No."

"Yet you're still a bitch. Catch what I'm saying?"

"Loud and clear, but you're out of windows." My voice was probably a bit higher than normal, but I tried to sound as calm as possible. This proved difficult when I gently touched his forearm, a forearm that had killed some of my dearest friends. "Wanna talk? Just to pretend this isn't happening."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. You were probably super hot in college, right? Never had to use your brain once." Negan spoke harshly, but he stopped fussing.

"I was kind of hot, not gonna lie. I also was a data analyst. That's kind of the downside."

"Nah, a sexy girl with glasses and an attitude still does well in life. Look at you. Ain't you the one who's fucking Rick?"

Negan finally seemed to relax, laying against a decrepit looking table with his arms crossed over his chest. Lucille rested over the table like a videogame weapon, screaming for me to take her and mash Negan's brain to a pulp.

I fought the urge to step on Negan's throat and smiled with all my might.

What was I saying. Oh yeah. Not fucking.

"Nah, I ain't fucking Rick. I ain't fucking at all. You're thinking of someone else."

I shifted my feet, feeling oddly shy. I wished I had been fucking, honestly. I should've shot my shot with super-hot-but-sweet Daryl Dixon. What a way to go. Surrounded by walkers, thinking about the outline of Daryl's dick against his pants. His strong shoulders pearled with sweat as he worked on his bike. His eyes staring deep into my soul, his voice sweet as honey dripping all over my-

Negan's breath on my neck made me jump. His voice was very expressive, a bit more scruffy from up close.

"Well, if the position is vacant I would love to fill it up, sweetness." He purred.

I mean. It was vacant. But I wanted to go to heaven and that was not compatible with fucking a murderous psychopath, was it. Was it? It wasn't, probably.

I took a step forward to prevent Negan's dick from grazing my ass, which was something I never thought I'd have to do.

"How about we talk instead?." I counteracted, crossing my arms in front of my chest while trying to seem menacing. "What did you do before?"

Negan seemed to grow three feet, his wicked smile fully focused on me as he anticipated my reaction.

"You're not gonna believe me." He warned. "I was a teacher. Primary school."

I cocked an eyebrow. That explained how he was able to pacify a bunch of greasy adults.

"I thought so. You have something that screams 'I love kids'."

He chuckled, and then shifted his gaze to the floor, lost in thought. He didn't reply. In that silence I finally **saw** him. The man he must have been before, the man that made sense outside of a zombie apocalypse. Grading papers, drinking black coffee, buying a leather jacket to escape the school's tight dress code and...

* * *

"Did you love your wife?" I asked after a little while, breaking both our chains of thought.

His human face melted, and he was Negan again, the Negan that only exists in chaos.

"I love all my wives."

"I mean..." I corrected. "Did you love your wife? The one before this?"

I could see the nerve being struck, and the pain in his eyes as I walked slowly towards him with an idea in mind.

"How did she die?" I continued. "Was she bitten? Did she turn? Did you shoot her?"

I was only a step away from Negan and his white knuckles told me I had to be fast or get strangled. I played my last wild card, placing both hands against his abdomen as I leaned to whisper in his ear.

"Did she die happy, Negan?"

My hands snaked around his waist as Negan lowered his face towards the crook of my neck, mistaking my intentions. I swiftly stole the gun from the back of his belt and took off running towards the bathroom of the little cabin we were trapped in.

The rest happened in a blink. As soon as my actions clicked, Negan closed the distance and pulled my hair, making me trip and fall. I managed to scramble and close the door behind me in one piece, but his punches kept raining over the flimsy material between us.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" He yelled. "I'M GOING TO CUT YOU TO PIECES AND EAT YOU LIKE SUSHI, YOU WHORE. I WILL FRAME YOUR HEART AND PISS IN IT EVERY FUCKING MORNING, YOU HEAR ME?"

"YOU'LL BE DEAD, NEGAN. YOU TALKED LIKE THIS TO YOUR WIFE?" I yelled back, clutching the gun like a newborn.

"I FUCKING DID UNTIL THE DAY SHE DIED. I WISH I HAD SHOT HER MYSELF, THE FUCKING HAG."

"WELL I WISH I HAD FUCKED DARYL DIXON. WE ALL HAVE REGRETS."

There was silence at the other side of the door.

"Wait, Daryl?" Negan asked in disbelief. "The fucking redneck? Yeesh, girl, you're a data analyst. Love yourself."

"The heart wants what the heart wants." I replied, opening the door to find a very puzzled Negan just inches from my face. "Sorry I took the gun. It won't help me, I know that."

"Keep it." He replied, still scrutinizing me. "It's yours."

Negan pulled away from my face, eyes swiping the room. A small section of the wall had given in and two dead ones were trying to crawl inside the little cabin. He grabbed Lucille from the table and started mashing them without a word.

"That's a tantrum." I muttered under my breath.

"You've never done this?" He declared with the smuggest smirk, taking a handful of intestines and spreading the mix across his right shoulder. "You take the rotting piss, the guts, the blood and the shit. You take aaaaall this stinking mess that can kill you with a thousand different infections and you coat yourself in it, so you smell like death and decay and puke. How does that sound?"

He didn't wait for a response, shoveling handful after handful of muck over his chest and shoulders. I did the same, holding back a grimace.

"And now, we walk."

Negan slammed Lucille against the wall a couple of times to encourage the walkers and opened the door to the cabin. Wave after wave of rotten corpses filled the space as we stood there trying not to stand out. His hand found mine and I grabbed it, but when I looked at him I found his gaze lost in the herd. He squeezed my thumb sofly and began to limp forward.

The situation felt oddly similar to walking through the club to go out for a smoke, Negan being the alpha bitch and me being the drunk friend that needs some air. He turned to check on me every now and then, and I just tried not to fall. It was getting increasingly hard with all the fallen bodies around me, arms and legs trying to pull me away from Negan. I clung onto him for dear life. I was so focused on him I didn't even see the corpse.

Negan let go of my hand, turned on his heel and broke a walker's head just as it was about to munch on my face. I pulled out the gun and blew two more heads off, grabbing onto his jacket while we tried to open a path to safety. It was going horribly.

"HOLD MY HAND AND DON'T LET GO!" Yelled Negan over the noise.

I obeyed and held his hand again, this time more confidently as we fought for our survival. The corpses closed against us, and as I ran out of bullets and took out my knife I squeezed Negan's hand in reassurance. We were fucked.


	2. Sweet home, Daryl Dixon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader now lives in Negan's base and puts her skills to good use, Daryl goes back to save her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I'm not murdering the beautiful english language, I'm sleep deprived and it's illegal to leave the house where I'm from.

Negan and I arrived at his base, leaving a trail of sweat and blood, to find a whole floor full of kneeling people. As soon as they had heard him whistle from the other side of the hall they had just bent the knee, because apparently that was normal and reasonable. I felt tempted to do the same, and I probably would've if I had found the strength. But every muscle in my body was aching, so I just watched Negan as he instructed two burly men to take me somewhere, gently, very gently.

The burly men did, and that somewhere turned out to be a cozy room with a bathroom and a fully stocked kitched. I cleaned myself and my clothes at the same time, and then dumped everything I owned that was remotely fabric in a little basket labeled "laundry". I stuffed my face with homemade bread, jam and a stale bag of chips, and almost cried at the sight of a proper bed with clean sheets.

If I was dead, that had to be heaven. But if that was heaven, why was Negan there?

As soon as I felt comfortable enough, I decided to explore the base. They obviously had way more resources than us, but how did they distribute them? Did Negan choose who got what? Were all rooms as nice and cozy as mine or was I receiving special treatment for some reason?

I was two steps into the hall when I bumped into a wide chest enveloped in a tight white t-shirt, and a big, calloused hand that I knew too well had to keep me from falling backwards.

"Woah, girl, there's people watching." Joked Negan, rubbing my shoulder way too hard. "I see you've found the shower. What was your name again?"

"Raclette" I replied literally the first word I could think of that was not my name. Unfortunately it was not a name at all.

"What a tease, won't even give me that. You know how to make me hard. As. Fuck."

His hand raised to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. I did my best not to flinch, holding his stare while he caressed my cheek sofly. I felt as if his eyes were able to tear me apart and put me back together in any way he wished, more and more vulnerable as his face inched painfully towards mine, to kiss me, or to bite my nose off and leave me bleeding. His smile remained unwavering, his pupils swimming in mine and making me feel all the weight of his expectations until, too weak to stand the scrutiny, I caved in and blurted my name.

"That's... that's my name." I added, just to make it clear.

"It doesn't suit you at all. It's not sexy, it's not sassy, it's not even clever. What the fuck was your mother thinking?"

"Probably not about any of those qualities." I shrugged, relieved of his touch for a moment. "Negan is not a good name for you, either."

"Really? What would you call me?" He asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

I wanted to say 'murderer' so bad. But I didn't, because momma didn't raise no dumb bitch.

"I don't know, I'd have to know you better." I replied instead.

"Well, I'm gonna call you Hotshot. Because you're super hot and you'll get shot if you try funny shit. Is that ok for you?"

He spoke so casually about killing others, about killing me. He would shoot me without blinking. I had to remember that and keep my mouth from running. It was going to be hard after giving Daryl sass for years, but hopefully the life or death scenario would help set the mood straight.

"I SAID" Negan yelled, yanking me from my thoughts and granting a shiver. "I said 'Is that ok for you'. Answer or your brain touches the floor in five, four..."

"Yes." I answered with my smallest, loveliest voice.

"Correct." Replied Negan with a bright smile. He went back to rubbing my shoulder, but this time I felt grateful for the reassurance. "If you like music, there's a piano downstairs. We could use some better players."

I nodded. I did play the piano fairly well before the end of the world, but I was understandably rusty. After a short silence, I turned around and headed back to my room so I could cry in peace.

* * *

After dinner was served and eaten, the same two burly men that had taken me to my room were kind enough to guide me to the piano room. About fifteen people were sat on the ground cross-legged, reading books or entertaining themselves in silence. Negan was sitting in a throne-like chair, with a woman in a black dress spreaded across his lap. When I entered the room, he started clapping loudly.

The two burly men pushed me gently towards the piano, and I sat in front of the keys with only a vague notion of what I had to do. I took my time, trying to find some chords and notes I remembered from a popular song everyone could sing.

"C'mon, play something already!" Yelled a blonde guy with a horrifying scar.

"Shut up, D. You can't rush art." Hissed Negan. With a slow nod, he signaled me to continue.

I tried some progressions and, when I felt I had secured the main parts of the song, I started playing. It was not meant to be a piano solo, but as soon as I started singing the chorus everyone joined with glee.

**Sweet home Alabama**

**Where the skies are so blue**

**Sweet home Alabama**

**Lord, I'm coming home to you**

* * *

Daryl wan'ed to go back to Negan's, but Rick wouldn't let 'im. Daryl told Rick he had seen ya get into a wooden cabin, so ya oughta been waitin' for help. He yelled at Rick, he fought Rick, he almost shot Rick, but in the end he had to face the truth: it was impossible to get ya back alone. He needed backup, and he needed it b'fore Negan laid a finger on ya.

He went crazy trynna find support among the people who had lost ev'rything, friends, neighbors 'n family. N'body wanted to go back to Negan's, not even for ya. What was goin' on? Didn't they care about ya enough to save ya?

'It ain't jus me.' He thought. 'E'ryone needs her. They sleep at night knowing she won't be there t'morrow? They know Negan's close ta her, fuckin' up that mind, dimming that light she had? Nah. They afraid of dying, and that's that.'

Tara said she'd come with 'im. So did Michonne, and Rosita. Not for ya, but to kill Negan, 'n that wus good enough. He had a truck ready by next morning, he picked his crew and he drove. He drove ta Negan's with his mind set on finally kissin' ya, as soon as he saw those soft, smilin' lips.

**Big wheels keep on turning**

**Carry me home to see my kin**


End file.
